𝐏𝐒𝐘𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐇 (Ash Trilogy #2) ✔️

21

The thought that I could ever live a killing-free life is comical. 

I doubt that there's even blood pulsing through my veins right now. I can hear the sound of my heart beating faintly, over the sound of my engine. It's soft, and distant, but it's there. It proves that there isn't an empty cavity there, and I truly do have a heart.

I rip my keys out of the ignition and step out as if I were about to do something casual.

My heart, made of stone, cracks for a moment as I hold my keys. Aurora's initial on them is enough to pull me out of my tunnel vision of rage and anger. 

But I'm doing this for her. The same way that I do everything, for her. 

My keys go into my pocket as I cross the yard. It's a normal night inside, that I can tell. 

As I walk up the steps to the house, I see a TV on inside. Through a crack in the curtain, I see a sports game on. 

I ring the doorbell. It makes an annoying noise, one I would hate to have inside of my home.

Footsteps shuffle until the door is opened from the other side. 

"Hello," I say, fake happiness lacing my voice as I force a smile.

Mohamad looks confused. His brows tug together, as he looks me up and down, like he was trying to pull from his memory if he knew me or not. 

"Hey...can I help you?" he questions, deciding that he doesn't know me.

Maybe there was a reason I had never been able to experience love before. 

Maybe it was because the universe didn't want me to. It knew how deeply I would fall in love, it knew the things I would do for that person, and it knew that Saint Ash in love would always be a danger to everybody else in the world.

And it was fucking right.

The bullet leaves my gun and hits him in the neck in less than a second. For a moment, all of my movements feel blurry. I step into the house, into the home where someone felt safe, as I take his life. I kick the door shut behind me, and I didn't even notice it, but some of his blood had splattered across my face. I wipe it off like it was an inconvenience. 

"No hard feelings," I say, my tone slightly sarcastic as I watch the man die in front of me.

He holds the bullet wound, desperate for it to stop, but it doesn't. The blood continues to pool from it, staining his hands and dripping down his shirt. His eyes are wide, and he attempts to make noises, but can't. His back hits the wall and he slides down it, and I simply just watch.

This is my fucking love. This is what I do, for the people I love.

Anybody that inflicts harm upon Aurora, no matter if it's mental or physical, will fucking pay. 

Mallory, her bitch of a fucking coworker.

Ben, her useless sack of horse shit ex-boyfriend.

Mohamad, dickhead who tried to take her father from her.

I would've killed her fucking mother too, if it wouldn't have hurt her.

That's where I draw the line. Her. I'll kill, I'll ruin lives, I'll destroy families. But I will never let anything hurt her.

I turn to leave. I'm satisfied he's dead when his skin goes pale and he falls to his side, the pool of blood beneath him reaching its max and no longer continuing to grow. 

But the second my fingertips graze the doorknob, I pause.

I turn my head to the side. Slowly, as if I couldn't move very fast.